


this is my show

by PoeticallyIrritating



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 17:43:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5099822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoeticallyIrritating/pseuds/PoeticallyIrritating
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>marion shows up at delphine's office late at night. yes, that's a very blatant porn setup.</p><p>set during s3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	this is my show

**Author's Note:**

> title from “fucked my way to the top” by lana del rey because it came on while i was trying to pick a title and i think i’m hilarious.

Marion is wearing all black. Her heels _click_ on the wooden floor, and she moves like a ballet dancer, light and calculated.

Delphine lifts her eyes from her computer screen long enough to draw her gaze down the length of Marion’s body, affecting boredom, before returning to work in silence.

“Dr. Cormier,” Marion says, and, after a beat, Delphine looks up.

“Ms. Bowles,” she says, and the response, gentle but firm, is “Marion.”

Delphine does not reciprocate the request for familiarity. “Marion. Have you come to reprimand me?”

“About your methods?” Marion’s mouth twitches. “No. We are, you remember, on the same side.”

“You are not…attached?” When Marion looks confused, she clarifies: “To Rachel Duncan.”

Something like nostalgia flickers across Marion’s face. “She has become a danger to the project, and I defer to your judgment in this area. Emotional attachments can be…damaging, as it seems you know.”

Delphine inclines her head.

“But to answer your question: I completed a project in Europe and came back home. To oversee, and offer…” Her eyes meet Delphine’s for just a moment. “Support.”

Delphine glances at her stack of paperwork. “Do you want a glass of wine?”

 -

Marion drinks her wine leaning against Delphine’s desk, one leg crossed over the other. Delphine sips from her glass occasionally, refusing to look up from her work, and Marion’s hand brushes Delphine’s arm in a way that might be accidental, if it didn’t happen again….and again.

“Marion,” says Delphine.

“Dr. Cormier,” Marion responds. The honorific sounds almost insolent.

“Why are you here?” She looks up from her work, just long enough to meet Marion’s eyes.

The corner of Marion’s mouth twitches. “I thought you might need a friend,” she says, and the word _friend_ has a ring of irony.

Delphine meets Marion’s eyes again. She bites her lip almost subconsciously, and as her teeth scrape across the surface of her lower lip, she makes a decision.

(She is decisive, these days.)

She closes the gap between them, and even though she is unused to aggression, her force is enough to make their teeth collide. They both freeze for a moment, the click of bone on bone the only sound in the still, silent room. Delphine breathes, her chest shuddering, and then she moves in again, pressing Marion against her desk.

Marion gasps when Delphine’s teeth dig into the flesh of her lower lip. Delphine bites down harder. She kisses, hard, hands gripping Marion’s thighs through her skirt, and Marion’s hands slide under the back of her blouse, nails pressing indentations into her skin. Marion’s mouth is hot against hers, and urgent, as if there is some life force she is sucking from Delphine’s mouth.

Marion fingers the buttons on Delphine’s shirt. It’s not until the third one is unbuttoned, deftly, that Delphine feels panic rising in her chest like seawater. Marion’s presence—tall, dark, pressing in and in and in—feels stifling.

“On your knees,” she whispers, harsh, and Marion sinks down without a word.

Delphine moves to lean against the edge of her desk, and as she does so, Marion unbuttons her pants. She pulls them down over Delphine’s thighs, and the trail of her fingertips makes Delphine shiver.

Marion’s mouth is hot on her thighs, stark against the chill of the room and the cold touch of her fingers. They are both cold, these days, are they not? Delphine spent an aching flash of time learning to be hot, flushed, foolish. But now—

Now, Marion presses the flat of her tongue against Delphine’s underwear and Delphine lets out a silent breath. She reaches for Marion’s hair and scrapes her nails along the scalp as she takes hold.

Delphine’s arousal and Marion’s saliva turn the fabric of her underwear transparent, and Delphine’s skin flushes hot and patchy red. Marion takes her time and Delphine lets her, lets Marion’s hands and mouth draw short, sharp gasps from her lips.

She frames it as allowing, but she has lost her carefully cultivated voice, the one that holds a threat just below the surface. With Marion’s mouth on her, all she can do is let her breaths come as they may, ragged and uneven, unregimented. Her eyelids shut and her hips strain upward, seeking more friction from the slow circles Marion is making with her tongue on the wet cloth. It’s not quite _enough,_ and it feels like an eternity before Marion pushes the fabric to the side. With it straining against her hand she can only manage one finger, but when she slips it inside Delphine groans, her body shuddering at the finger stroking inside her along with the steadily more insistent motion of the tongue against her clit. It feels like something hot and molten under her skin, her breathing getting faster and shallower as it builds.

She comes in a wave of heat and light, sighing out a moan. As she comes down her body goes slack, and it occurs to her that she hasn’t breathed this deeply in days.

“Good,” Marion breathes. Delphine shivers.

Marion rises before her, looking untouched except for some wrinkling in her skirt and one affected finger on her right hand. Looking at Delphine, half-dressed and struggling to stand, she slips the finger in her mouth and licks it off. “I’ll be seeing you soon, Doctor Cormier,” she says.

After she’s gone, Delphine sits down heavily in her chair and downs the last of her wine.


End file.
